I am from lemon scented air freshener
I am from pocket knives and tree bark
I am from driving down dirt roads at 3:00 in the morning and wishing to be anywhere but here
I am from missing my real home
I am from lessons that were taught in preschool that I carried with me my whole life

I am from illegal pills that she used to look beautiful
I am from no escape
I am from synesthesia, seeing and feeling colour everywhere I look

I am from quivering under the cover of a wet quilt
I am from feeling equally afraid for her and of her
I am from scars from what has hit hard enough to break skin in the past

I am from trying to save them
I am from graffiti
I am from explosive words and insults
I am from what no one but me could see wasn’t love

I am from those who told me I wasn’t good enough, mainly myself
I am from “I don’t want to talk about it”
I am from “don’t tell your mom”
I am from “I still love him”

I am from finding salvation by curling up in the skin she taught me to hate
I am from the smell of liquor masked by fabreeze
I am from running out of gas late at night and falling asleep in strange places

I am from eviction and trying not to think about it too much
I am from checking the “financial aid” section on college brochures
I am from “do you accept EBT here?” I am from broken down cars that were all she could afford
I am from having plans that were never followed through with

I am from revolving door roommates
I am from smiling and nodding to keep her happy
I am from empty threats that kept me up at night
I am from initials inside of hearts carved into a tree by a hunting knife or written in sharpie inside of a bathroom stall

I am from gasoline
I am from marker ink staining the shapes of words into my arm
I am from hand me downs
I am from a dollhouse
I am from things I don’t want to remember

I am from paint chips
I am from dead ends
I am from road maps
I am from her

I am what I am